


i'll draw three figures on your heart

by likewinning



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Comment Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3265700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I ran away once, too." Written for Comment Fic, for the prompt "I am my father's son."</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll draw three figures on your heart

"I went looking for you," Jason says. He's not touching you, not really, just breathing in your space like he doesn't have enough of his own. "And after I tripped all the alarms," he says, "they told me you'd left."

"Bruce didn't need me anymore," you say. It's not entirely the truth, but it's not a lie, either.

"Yeah," Jason says. He's straddling you, thighs gripping you, but he's not moving at all, and he might not. Jason is – Jason lives to bring you right to the edge, to drag a knife across your throat and let you go, to rub against you until you're going crazy with it and then slip out a window.

To almost connect –

"I ran away once, too," he says.

"I remember," you say 

"No you don't," he says. "You don't know shit about what happened."

\- and then take it right back

Usually you'd let him talk, let him keep going until he burns himself out, but it's 3AM and he's already on top of you, so you say, "No, of course not. I just spent four years picking up the pieces from it."

You're surprised when Jason laughs instead of hitting you. You can feel it echo against your chest as he leans into you, feel it roll up your spine. "It's not funny," he says. "Not that you spent years making up for the mess I made."

"You didn't," you say, and you almost stop because Jason's eyes are on you, no helmet or domino mask or anything in between you but about ten inches of air, but you jump off buildings and fight super criminals for a living, so you can be brave enough to add –

"You were good, Jason. You were everything he could've wanted out of –"

"A son?" Jason asks. You feel yourself make a face at the words, because if the two of _you_ were Bruce's sons, he would've saved you both, instead of –

Instead of being right here, Jason on top of you, pressing his weight into you and starting to roll his hips. "A Robin," you correct.

Jason doesn't say anything. His hand is over your heart, and you know how to slow down the beats, how to make it seem like you're not on fire with him so close to you, but you don't use any of Bruce's tricks.

You're not _him._

You're not like him, not like any of the others, and you're not going to deny how much you want Jason, how much you've _always_ wanted him.

Jason stays until the sun comes up, until the light comes pouring through the window, blinding you both. "You could stay," you offer, knowing that he won't, knowing that you might not be like Bruce, but Jason is.

He doesn't, of course.


End file.
